Camp Bernie Poem

I sat in my bed

And looked up at the ceiling

Saw so many things

Felt so many feelings

Anger that people

Would block out names

But also surprise

At one word: James

Was a boy here?

I sit here and think

Why is this name

Written here in ink?

I look and I see

The older words

They’re people like us

Who want to be heard

I look at the dates

68, 69

And I think to myself

That’s pretty fine

These people are legends

In Camp Bernie’s course

Some didn’t have cars

They came here by horse

They are to be revered

Honored by us

And now you see

Why I make such a fuss

They are the origin

Of this grand place

And knowing this

Puts a smile on my face

Their names are common

Martha, C.G

Waynette Eaton

And Nancy D

But their stories

Are special now

History here

And how?

Simple, you see

They came here

To have a good time

In good cheer

So respect them

And you’ll see

That they’re rare

Special to me